The Words I Couldn't Say
by IndigoNightandRayneStorm
Summary: As Harry goes off the face Voldemort, and possibly his death one last time, will Ron be able to confess his feelings? Or will it be too late? VERY sad, HPxRW slash
1. What Hurts The Most

**Title: **The Words I Couldn't Say

**Author: **IndigoStarNight

**Feedback: **Yes please

**Summary:** As Harry goes off the face Voldemort, and possibly his death one last time, will Ron be able to confess his feelings? Or will it be too late? VERY sad, HPxRW slash

**Pairing: **HarryxRon

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or the characters. Nor do I own the lyrics in the end of the chapter, those belong to Rascal Flatts

**Spoilers: **Don't think so…

**Rating: **PG-13 for somewhat graffic violence and mature themes

**Warnings: **Slash, if you don't like, don't read. Also some serious angst warning.

**Author's Note: **Hey all, this story was posted on the other account I used to be using before I merged the two accounts, so I deleted it and am reposting it here. So, please review!

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_It has been nearly three months now, since he left. As I sit here, silent in this lonely hospital room. _

_Three months, three long months, of silence, of tears and pain and loss, and waiting. Waiting to see if the boy-who-lived will live again._

_He has not moved, not since that icy morning, that frigid morning so strange for July. _

_As I sit here, watching his still face, I long for him to wake, for his eyes to open, for him to smile at me, to hear his voice. Hell, I would give anything if only for a change in the steady beep that represents the rhythm of his heart._

_I think back to the last time I spoke to him, the things I said, and… the things I did not say; the things that I now may never be able to confess to him. _

'_Harry…' I whisper, gently stroking his cheek. I do not cry anymore, well, rarely. But as I sit and gaze at him I feel as though I may explode, the hollow chasm in my heart in which the words I never said to him cower making my entire body ache with longing to set things right._

_With aching to say the words I couldn't say._

* * *

**July 30, 2002 6:00 PM**

"Hurry!" Hermione screamed, ushering the small flock of students in front of her across the vast lawn, all the while dodging the constant stream of variously colored lights heading straight for them.

Half way to the castle she paused and looked back. Harry was still outside of the gate, valiantly fighting off the countless Death Eaters alone, giving the rest of them time to flee. Ron hung only a few steps back, trying to help.

"Ron!" Harry yelled over his shoulder, "Run! Help Hermione!" Reluctantly Ron turned, but did not run far before also stopping, turning back to watch Harry.

With a huge burst of energy Harry yelled something that no one could make out and suddenly the entire area in front of him was lit by a blinding light. Even Ron and Hermione had to shield their eyes with their hands and blink several times. By the time his two friends' vision had cleared, Harry was swinging the huge iron gates closed with a bang and, touching the lock with his wand, was fervently chanting. He finished, just as the light faded and collapsed to his knees right inside of the gate, watching with exhausted eyes as the Death Eaters angrily continued to shoot bolts of light at him, which disappeared as though sucked into an invisible wall the second they reached the gate.

Ron and Hermione were immediately at their friend's side, helping him to his feet.

He swayed slightly, his face ashen, "That should hold 'em a while," he croaked.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione soothed in a motherly tone, leading him back to the castle, "You need food and rest."

The rest of their group stood in a frightened huddle on the front steps. They were mostly sixth and seventh year students, with a small smattering of extremely mature and talented fifth years. It was the summer holidays of course, and the school was empty, but the war was not going well, and they were in desperate need of help, so several of the older students who were most persistent about helping out had been allowed to join in the fight, these among them.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had been leading them on a special mission when they had been ambushed by a huge group of Death Eaters; thankfully they had been in the countryside just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade and had fled to Hogwarts for sanctuary.

Now they entered the castle, Hermione in the lead, headed toward the place that was most familiar and safe feeling to the three adults, the Gryffindor common room.

Once in the common room Hermione ordered Harry to sit on one of the worn, overstuffed couches before leaving to rouse the house elves into cooking them some dinner.

Ron sat quietly near to Harry on the couch, covertly glancing at him every few seconds, but Harry did not notice, he was instead staring blankly into the empty fireplace, his eyes unfocused and looking barely conscious.

The war, especially the past few months, had been particularly hard on him. He had barely had time to sit for a moment and catch his breath, let alone get a good night's sleep, or eat a proper meal, thanks to which, he was of course, skinnier than ever he had not even attempted to comb his hair in weeks, and it was in serious need of a trim. His eyes were hollow, with dark circles under them, and even his clothes were worn and dirty. Not that any one else look much better, but Harry had beyond a doubt had the worst of it.

After only a few minutes of silence, Hermione came bursting back in, trailed by a small army of cooing, bustling, overly-anxious-to-please house elves who immediately set about lighting fire places and making beds and fluffing pillows, and other such home making things in order to make the refugees as comfortable as possible.

In no time at all they were all warmly wrapped in blankets around a merrily crackling fire, as another battalion of elves marched in bearing impossible amounts of food. They set the trays and bowls down on the many tables scattered throughout the room and began loading down plates. Almost before anyone could blink each was holding a plate that looked ready to crack in half they were so weighted down with food.

Most of the students quickly dug into their food. A few looked rather green and tried to refuse the plates, but their friends were quick to convince them to at least try, many using the excuse that otherwise they would hurt the house elves' feelings.

Once they were fed Hermione flapped the students up the stairs, in a perfect Mrs. Weasley imitation.

Ron did not move, neither did Harry. Harry was sitting with his half eaten plate of food in his lap, his eyes glazed with the same look he wore so often these days.

Ron pondered that look as they sat silently in the dim light that seemed to fill the entire world lately. That look was dark, haunted, flowing from eyes the reflected the pain that not only had Harry experienced personally, but also what he had seen and heard of. There was brooding, dwelling on regrets of the past, the things that had been done, the things that had not, and the things that should have. Fear was held, tight and hidden from all but those who knew him best, shoved haphazardly behind the front of calm and courage that was what people needed to see from him, fear that he would fail, fear that more of his friends would die, would leave him alone in this mess. Loneliness positively radiated from his thin frame, cold and bitter, it spoke of longing hate for all those whom he had loved and lost, starting with the most recent wounds and winding all the way down, back to his parents as a baby. But above all else, in that gaze there was stark, hopeless determination, determination to in the end do what everyone knew he must.

That fear and pain tore Ron up inside. He hated it, all of it. The war that had started everything, Voldemort for being at the heart of it, that stupid prophesy for bringing Harry into the mix, all of their friends for disappearing and getting themselves killed. But most of all he hated himself, he hated himself for being over here, staring at Harry dumbly, his eyes unfocused and his mouth hanging up, and not being over there with Harry, holding him gently, trying to help him, to comfort him, the way Ginny had before she had disappeared. But no matter how much he hated it, he still could not bring himself to move, to go over, and to say the words that were scolding his insides just as they had been for years.

He took a deep breath. He had to do it, just scoot over and say it now, before it was too late. It was a familiar pep talk, he had given it to himself countless times before, planned it out, decided to tell him, he could do it! Subtlety he moved, just a bit, only a few inches closer, but it was enough, he could feel Harry, and found that his own breathing was pacing itself to his, he reached out, his hand only a hair's breadth from Harry's, he was so close…

"Well, they're asleep," Hermione said with false cheeriness as she came down the stairs and sank tiredly into an armchair opposite them.

Ron jumped back, nervously folding his hands in his lap and studying them carefully. So close, and yet, so far.

Harry nodded, coming out of his reverie. "How are they?" he asked quietly.

"Rather shaken, but then again, aren't we all?" she sighed, "I still don't like us putting them in the field like this, they're just kids."

"We were doing stuff like this at their age," Ron interjected.

"That was different," Hermione retorted.

"Either way," Harry interrupted, stopping the bickering match before it could begin, "Hermione's right, they shouldn't have to face this, no one should, but we do, and that's that."

There was silence for several minutes, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

"You two need rest," said Hermione at last, bringing them back to the present.

Harry nodded and Ron yawned despite himself.

"Don't neglect yourself either, Hermione," Harry warned, knowing she was all too prone to watching worriedly over them as they slept and not resting herself.

She nodded, and they all headed up the stairs to their beds.

_It was dark, there was mist everywhere, he could not see. 'Harry?' he screamed 'Harry!' There were other voices, besides his own, screaming, crying, calling, but he could not make out what they said, nor did he really care. His entire being was focused on just one thing, 'Harry!' The mist swirl around him, he could see nothing, he was running, screaming, chasing what he could not find, yet at the same time, he stood, immobile, frozen and helpless. 'Harry!' he called again, 'Harry…'_

Ron sat bolt upright, staring blankly into the gloom before him for a moment. His breathing was heavy his heart beat erratic. Slowly he turned and looked around him, trying to discover what woke him. His eyes fell on the empty bed next to his, Harry's.

His heart was just beginning to slow, but now it was pounding in his throat. Quickly he threw off the blankets and jumped out of bed, his half asleep mind forgetting rational thought and skipping straight to panic.

He stumbled down the stairs and stopped dead at the bottom, frantically searching the common room with his eye. Hermione was fast asleep on a couch, but otherwise the room was empty and silent. Then out of the corner of his eye Ron caught a flash of movement and realized it was the portrait hole closing. Quickly he crossed over it and shoved his way out, just in time to see the corner of a cloak disappear down the hallway.

"Harry!" he called, beginning to run. Whether Harry heard his calls or not, the raven-haired man did not stop or slow his pace, instead leading Ron on a direct course to the entrance hall and out of the huge double doors onto the lawn.

"Harry!" Ron finally caught up to him, grabbing his arm and making him stop, "What's going on? Where are you going?"

"To end it," Harry replied calmly. His eyes were deadpan, nothing there any longer but the cold empty determination from before, only now it had grown, seeping into Harry's very heart, soul and mind, until it drown out everything else.

"Are you insane, Harry!" Ron yelled, his voice squeaking slightly with emotion, "You can't! Not now, we need you!"

"Look Ron," Harry practically yelled back, "Voldemort is out there! He arrived nearly an hour ago, I watched through the window. That barrier I put on the gate won't hold much longer, and then it will all be over for us anyway. I am going to go out there and face Voldemort one last time, and bring the prophesy to completion one way or another. I have to Ron, I have no choice."

Ron choked and nodded, drawing away. He knew Harry was right, this was what had to happen, they had all always known, but that made it by no means any easier.

Harry gave him one last kind look, before turning to continue his suicidal mission.

'Ron! Idiot! What the bloody hell are you doing!' a voice in his head bellowed, 'This may be your last chance for real, just tell him already!'

He nodded to the night, steeling himself, "Harry?" he called again, last time, last chance. Harry stopped and looked at him expectantly. He choked. 'Do. It.' the voice growled.

"I- erm, good luck mate," he said lamely. Harry nodded and turned, disappearing into the night without another word, the lost, stoic hero vanishing into the shadows, to face his fate alone just as the huge castle clock chimed midnight.

'IDIOT!' hollered the voice in Ron's head, but he ignored it. Slowly he sank to his knees, one by one pearly tears sliding down his cheeks. He had not said it, had not done it, and now, maybe, he never could.

_What hurts the most  
Was being so close  
And having so much to say  
And watching you walk away  
And never knowing  
What could have been  
And not seeing that loving you  
Is what I was tryin' to do_

**TBC**


	2. The Words I Couldn't Say

**So here's part two, one more chapter to go. Disclaimer: I don't own the lyrics at the end of this chapter either, those belong to Rascal Flatts. Please Review!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_I am a hollow, broken shell, alone in the crowd that surrounds me. Hermione is here, freshly reunited with her parents, Remus and Tonks, blushing and bubbling, someone's hand always resting on Tonks' rounding belly. Fleur with her little sister, Gabrielle, still hollowed eyed over the loss of Bill, but smiling all the same._

_They all have something, someone, to lean on, now that the war is over, someone to help them deal with the pain. Me? I have no one. My family is gone, my friends estranged, my love dying. I am lost and alone, with nothing but the torment of regret to consume me._

_I smile and laugh along with them, as they pretend that all is well, that those who should be among them perhaps never existed, and that the beautiful raven-haired boy that lays in our midst is not there, that he never was._

_This happens, every few weeks, they all come, bringing with them news of the rebuilding, the repairing, the continuing of life in the outside world. I do not really care. My world is here, with him, and my world is fading._

_At last they leave, and I am left in peace again. I sit down in my chair, the one I have barely left for the past three months, and I take his hand in my own once more, still so cold and lifeless._

"_Ron?" a soft voice whispers, quiet, kind, disgusting. I jump, not having realized Hermione was still there. "Ron," she says my name again, her voice filled with loathsome pity, like she understands, like she thinks she can help, "I-I spoke to his doctors."_

_I roll my eyes, all she has to tell me are the same empty words of hope the doctors have already given me, 'he is stable, it will take time, everything will be fine,' I do not wish to hear them again, I wish they would all just leave me be._

"_They-they said… Oh Ron," She comes over to me, burying her face in my shirt. I tense, something is wrong._

"_What did they say Hermione?" I demand, my voice cracking with disuse._

"_They-they-" she stammers, "Ron, they plan to take him off of life support."_

_I stare blankly at her, not knowing what that means._

"_Ron," she tries, misinterpreting my expression, "He just isn't healing, he isn't getting better. Holding on, it won't help anyone, it's time to just move on."_

_Oh, now I get it. "No!" I yell, leaping from my chair, "They can't do that! They can't just kill him! Not after everything. Not before I can…" Damn, I am crying again._

"_Oh Ron, I know," she whispers, trying to hug me, she is crying too, "I don't want to let him go either, but we have to, Ron. He wouldn't want us holding on and forgetting to live ourselves. We-we have to just let him go."_

_I remain stiff against her comfort, fighting it, refusing to accept it, unable to accept it. I do not _want_ to let him go. But in the end, I loose the battle, and I give in, falling weakly into her arms until we are both kneeling on the floor in a tight embrace, sobbing into each other's shoulders._

"_I don't want to let him go," I whisper, "Not yet…not yet…"_

* * *

It was nearly dawn; Hermione woke with a start, not even having realized she had fallen asleep. She sat up slowly, rubbing her neck.

"Ron?" she asked groggily, recognizing the shadowed profile standing at a window near her.

Ron jumped and turned, "You're awake," he said, stating to obvious.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, getting up to come look for herself. Ron stepped aside, letting her look.

"Oh my god," she gasped, staring open mouthed, "What is that?"

"The final battle," Ron replied grimly.

"What?" Hermione turned to stare at him, noticing that despite his seemingly numb, calm front, he was pale and shaking, with visible tear tracks striping his cheeks.

"Harry," Ron said, his voice was so emotionless it hurt, "He left to go fight Voldemort, it will all be over soon."

Hermione turned back to the window a gasp, trying to see through the thick, unnatural mist so heavy it nearly blocked out the fledgling sun. Finally at the core of the mist she was able to make out something, it was a blinding light, a dome, surrounded by black, misshapen figures. She bit her lip, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet anxiously.

"What's going on?" she asked, trying to see into the golden dome, "I can't see them."

"Your guess is as good as mine," replied Ron bitterly, turning away and flopping into the nearest chair.

Hermione turned to him, even in her anxiousness about what was going on down below unable to ignore the tearstains that blotched her friend's cheeks.

"Ron?" she asked quietly, moving away from the window to sit next to the red head, "You love him, don't you?"

He did not answer, instead carefully studying his hands, his eyes over bright once more.

"Does he know?" she persisted.

That was it, Ron broke, the tears flooding from his eyes once more, "No," he whispered brokenly, "And now I'll never get to tell him."

"Don't say that," she said, moving to sit next to him, putting her arm comfortingly around his shoulders, "He'll come back, and when he does just run right up to him and show him how you feel Ron. Don't worry, everything will be alright." Ron nodded numbly, with a loud sniff, but the tears did not stop. They both knew that the chances of Hermione being right this time were not in their favor, but neither could bare to say that.

But they did not stay like that for long. Moments later there was a huge BOOM! That shook the entire castle. They were on their feet and at the window in an instant. The dome had exploded, literally, leaving a huge, smoking crater where it had once been.

The students came tumbling down the stairs, falling over one another in their haste.

"What the bloody hell was that?" one shouted.

"Quick!" yelled Ron, heading to the portrait hole. The others were all right behind him, wands at the ready as they headed out.

Ron in the lead, Hermione only a step behind, and the students closely following, they cautiously crossed the lawn.

A chorus of gasps traveled through the group as the approached the charred edges of the gigantic hole.

Several "Bloody hells" where heard throughout the group as Ron stepped forward and slid down into the hole.

Slowly Ron crossed the desolate open expanse that was the bottom of that chasm, his eyes round with wonder as his stared straight above his head at the charred, twisted remnants of the front gates.

There was nothing but broken, twisted debris and soot everywhere, as plumes of fetid smoke curled up from the dead ground, making it hard to breathe. There were no people, not even any bodies.

"Harry?" Ron called desperately, "Harry!" No answer, no flicker of the presence he had become so accustomed to.

He was three quarters of the way across the great expanse when he saw it. A small, singed scrap of black cloth hanging over the edge of the hole on the far side. He began running, scrambling up the steep wall to the top. Where he fell to his knees.

"Harry," he whispered. The body was limp, pale, bloody and broken, but it was there, the wire-rimmed glasses broken in half, and the messy jet-black hair obscuring the eyes. Even through all the blood and dirt, there was no denying who it was. Harry Potter, the Chosen one, had fulfilled his mission.

But even so, as Ron Weasley sat there, cradling his love, he sobbed, the crystalline tears that flooded from his eyes leaving smudged spots on the bloody face, once so handsome and full of life, now marred and blank. Ron Weasley did not cry because Harry had succeeded in his mission, but because he himself had failed in his own, because he had missed his chance. And all he could hear in the silence the enveloped his ears were the words he had never said.

* * *

_What do I do now that you're gone  
No back up plan no second chance  
And no one else to blame  
All I can hear in the silence that remains  
Are the words I couldn't say_


	3. Tell Him

**Hey all, so here's the third and final chapter. Here is where I would love to thank all my wonderful reviewers, but I haven't had any, so I can't. Anyway, for those of you out there who are choosing to read these, I hope you like it, not that I would know since no one's telling me one way or another. OK, shutting up now.**

**Enjoy and please review.**

* * *

_Here I sit, in the same chair, in the same hospital room, just like I have for months. But now it's over. Tomorrow it all ends and my love will no longer be here for me to watch, will no longer be here for me to hold on to. _

_I hold his hand, gently kissing lifeless fingertips. Stroking his cold cheek I want more than anything to hold him close and give back to him everything that was stolen, to give him everything he ever needed or wanted._

_Gently I lean over, my fingertips brushing his lips. A single splash of salty pain lands on the tip of his nose, slowly, tenderly, I kiss it away. I gaze at his lips, so much, so desperately I long to kiss them. I bend down, hovering just inches above him, even now afraid, but I take a deep breath, I will do it! Slowly, slowly our lips meet, so soft, so beautiful. The sweet taste of him fills me, filling me with joy, and for a moment, just a moment I am able to forget everything and loose myself in a world of pure beauty._

_But then the moment is broken, torn from me. The beep changes its steady, monotonous rhythm, it quickens, nearly matching the pounding of my own heart. I gasp, could it be?_

_I draw back, just enough to see his face, his lips are parted now, I am still close enough to feel the small puffs of warm breath leaving them. His cheeks, so deathly pale for months, were flushed! Then my eyes continue their journey, and are met in the end, with two, heavenly, emerald gemstones, finer and more beautiful than anything that could ever be found! Even if all of the treasured hordes of ancient kings of old were to be piled up in the same room, even that, would not be even half as precious as those eyes looking at me now._

"_Ha-Harry?" I stammer, unable to believe it._

"_Ron?" he replies, "What's going on? What happened?" His voice is so quiet, so familiar, and there is that same faint crease of confusion between his eyebrows that I had seen so many times before, wrinkling his face in the same comical why that always made me want to laugh._

"_Harry, I-" the voice in my head is back, it tells me to do it, that I was given a second chance, now take it! Take it now! So I do, "Harry, I love you!" I say in a rush, there, its done. I wait for his response, unable to meet his eyes, so afraid of what he might say._

_At first he says nothing. All is silent, until at last I can bare it no longer and dare a glance at him. The crease is gone now, replaced by a different emotion, but I cannot tell what it is. It is softer, kinder, perhaps even longing. My heart catches in my throat, the way he is looking at me making me feel things I never knew existed._

"_Ron," he whispers. He lifts one, frail hand, bringing it to my face, but is not quite strong enough to touch me and it falls back limply on the bed. He tries to say more, but he cannot speak._

_I lean forward, worried, but before I can do anything he shoves forward in a burst of strength and once again our lips meet._

_This time however, this time I am not only shown the small slice of heaven I had seen before, no, this time I see the whole thing. Huge gates, streets of gold, thousands of beautiful angels singing a song more lovely than the simple human mind could ever comprehend. And most of all, this time, I see Harry. I feel him, his breath mingling with mine, his body soft and willing, almost loving._

_When at last we part lips, neither of us moves, each leaning against the other's forehead, breathless, lost in the joy of the moment._

"_I thought you were going to die," I whisper, closing my eyes as yet more tears, this time of joy and relief come to my eyes. Later I will berate myself for acting like a hormonal sissy, but for right now, I do not care._

"_No such luck," Harry whispers back, his lips twisting slightly with the joke. I laugh softly, even as my tears continue._

"_I'm glad you didn't," I murmur._

"_So am I," he replies._

"_Without you…" but I cannot even finish the thought._

"_It doesn't matter any more," he tells me, running a gentle hand through my hair, "I didn't die, and I don't plan to for a long time."_

"_Good," I choke, "I would hate to loose you now."_

"_You won't," he promises._

_And there we stay, removed from the world and all its troubles, me laying on the edge of the bed; him curled up in my arms. He is in pain, he is weak, he is scared, as am I, as are we all, the war has taken its toll, but right now, that doesn't matter, because right now, I have him, and he has me, and once I finally said those words I couldn't say, I cannot stop, I keep whispering them over and over again, even long after he dozes off, safe and warm in my arms._

* * *

_Tell him that you love him  
Tell him that you need him  
Tell him that you want him to stay  
Reassure him with a kiss  
He may never know unless you  
Show him what your feeling  
Tell him you're believing  
Even though it's hard to say  
'Cause he needs to know you're thinking of him  
So open up and tell him that you love him_

* * *

**THE END (Sniffle)**

**Note: yes, the original song is Tell HER, but that doesn't really fit now does it? Artistic license :)**


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